


Blew the Walls Off

by DuskyMafiosa



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, RWBY Rock, Unhappy Papa Schnee in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3967732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuskyMafiosa/pseuds/DuskyMafiosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The band changed formation and style tonight. When the four members of RWBY took the stage, the audience watched Weiss settle up front, no electric violin in hand, and Ruby sans guitar in the backup’s position. The smoke was still thinning out from the last act, but Weiss could still read the confusion, interest, and anticipation in both human and Faunus faces alike through the haze. To them, it was no secret that she could sing; that’s why she performed backup so well. The secret was that she'd been holding back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blew the Walls Off

**Author's Note:**

> A great thanks goes to AshleyXIV for being a wonderful beta. Also, listening to Dessa's "Warsaw" is not required for the enjoyment of this fic, but it's definitely not a waste of time.

Weiss despised nervousness. As an efficient person, any possible vitiation doubled as an annoyance. Objectively, it served no purpose aside from making her feel sick. Knowing that it was impossible to retch the feeling holding her innards captive, she did the next best thing. Leaning forward into a clean mirror on the brick backstage wall, she lifted a hand to trace the jagged scar over her left eye. It had been there for years, but time had not smoothed the skin.

Still, it was a point of hard-won pride for her. After all, she'd gotten it during RWBY’s first gig. After listening for silence in each hallway, tiptoeing downstairs, making sure that Winter didn't blow her cover, and successfully sneaking out of her mansion that night, Weiss had made her great escape in the backseat of Yang’s van. The set went better than rehearsed; no one lagged a quarter-note behind and Ruby’s hand didn't cramp up during her guitar solo. The injury came when Yang picked Weiss up and made her go crowd surfing.

When she got home, she couldn't think of any other way to explain what happened to her eye that sounded more plausible than the truth. All the disdain her father had for her favorite pastime increased exponentially and unfairly. He’d yelled that that the only performances she would give for the rest of her life would be at opera houses. Her electric violin would be kept in plain sight, but sealed away in a glass case. As he has yet to find out, the padlock he placed on it is not greater than her diamond-tipped hair clip. The memories of rebellion brought the corners of her mouth up into a smile, uncoiling the nervous feeling in her stomach.

The acoustics in Junior’s club extended to the rooms backstage. Without too much effort, Weiss could hear her bandmates asking each other who should knock on the door. She opened it before Blake’s fist could make a sound, then made certain to assure the three of them she was alright.

“Are you sure about tonight? Did you want to practice again?” Yang questioned. Weiss shook her head, her heavy ponytail swinging behind her back. “I think we've done enough practicing. Besides, we only have to do it once. If it sticks,” she shrugged, “it sticks.”

“You're way more laid-back than usual,” Ruby stated. “I like it.”

Weiss hummed thoughtfully before leading them out of the backstage area.

The band changed formation and style tonight. When the four members of RWBY took the stage, the audience watched Weiss settle up front, no electric violin in hand, and Ruby sans guitar in the backup’s position. Blake and Yang were still in their usual spots, the former to the right on bass, leaving the latter in the back with her set of spray-painted gold drums. The smoke was still thinning out from the last act, but Weiss could still read the confusion, interest, and anticipation in both human and Faunus faces alike through the haze. To them, it was no secret that she could sing; that’s why she performed backup so well. The secret was that she'd been holding back.

Weiss had been out of her father’s mansion for three years, but he would often send his employees to sit in the front rows during performances. It didn't matter if the venue was an underground rap battle, bar, homely lounge, or big-league stadium. Not sure what this meant and getting no direct answer when she called the man responsible, Weiss always gave Ruby the center, becoming content on the side. And tonight, sure as Blake’s chord progressions, there was a group of two men and two women in slate gray business suits already claiming the last barstools. Even if Weiss didn't already know where to look, their attire alone set them apart from the crowd of college students and other overworked adults.

When the last of the smoke cleared, Weiss waved at the DJ, who was also the bar’s bear mascot. He didn't bother introducing them since everyone knew who they were. Instead, his job now was to fill in the parts with his turntable that their instruments couldn’t. He usually didn't work when bands were booked, but given the choice of song, Weiss had needed to call in this favor from Junior. The only one she needed to repay was to Yang for helping her with rapping. It was one thing to uproot herself from her comfortable operatic beginnings, she'd mused, but the tone she wanted to establish required something she wasn't used to singing.

Seeing the DJ wave back, Yang took her cue to begin a thundering drumbeat, willing the notes to pound out, seek, and claim any attention that wasn't already on the band. Blake’s sonorous bass and the accompanying turntable soon joined in, not overshadowing each other, but preparing for Weiss’ words.

Immediately, an understanding that this song would be different from any others in that night’s set settled uniformly over the crowd, almost like an invisible blanket.

Weiss clutched the mic in front of her as she sang, more of a reflexive motion than a fit of nerves. She leaned close to the stage’s edge at the beginning of each line and rocked backwards slightly at the end of them. The fans’ surprise at the lyrics’ honesty – Weiss’ honesty – made another smile present itself amidst the other intense lines on her face. When they felt what she was saying, the crowd found ways to move with her, pointing towards her the whole while. On the side, she used to be so frigid. Yes, her electric violin and vocal solos were joys to the ears, but they never lasted longer than a few seconds, always leaving the audience wanting more. This was a welcome change. Though ignorant of what compelled it, the fans were simply grateful it was happening.

The combination of building confidence, steady drums, and the heat of adrenaline spurred her beyond her previous self-imposed boundaries. With all eyes on her, Weiss snatched the mic from its place, then kicked the stand offstage. She stomped her foot down at the stage’s edge again and met the SDC employees’ gazes. Cycling her harshest glare between each pair of their eyes, she left no doubt who her lines were addressed to.

_And I've done some livin’ in the glass house_

_High note blew the muthafuckin’ walls off…_

The lines bounced off the walls and came right back to Weiss. Only Ruby and Yang backed her up now, warm tones from the former encouraging her steely voice to sing louder. In this new mood, the crowd’s clamoring was not loud enough to undercut her words.

_And I'm still livin' by my maiden name_

_The name I came with_

_The name I made_

_And I’m barefaced at your masquerade_

_Filled a flask up before I came_

She held her gaze until the suits got up to leave. Whatever they were going to report to Papa Schnee would be exactly what she’d wanted to tell him for years. Perhaps if he answered her next call, she would get the chance. Both eagerness at the prospect and the enjoyment of this experience shared the space in her heart, prompting Weiss to point back at the crowd, grinning through the rest of the verses.


End file.
